Changing Sides
by Angel Nocturne
Summary: An encounter with the Dark Lord puts Hermione in a very difficult position. Only one person can help, and it comes from a very unexpected source... SSHG HBP compliant.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione stumbled as she was pushed up what she thought was a wooden staircase. Fear grew in the pit of her stomach. She'd never been more terrified. To struggle, she had already discovered, was futile. She could see nothing. No one was talking. But she could feel the hand holding the cloak firmly over her face, and the other hand behind, grasping her robes and pushing her onwards. Someway in front of her, she heard a door creaking open. Hermione's sense of foreboding intensified with every step she was forced to take. "In here Bellatrix", came a familiar whimpering voice. The hand grasping her robes thrust her inside and swiped the cloak from her face.

"My Lord, here she is; Potter's Muggleborn friend." Hermione blinked, disorientated, and took in the scene before her. She appeared to be standing in a large sitting room; a roaring fireplace lit the room eerily from the back, and was surrounded by six or so worn leather armchairs. In the middle stood a large circular table, at which were sat three men. Wormtail she recognised instantly. The other two she didn't know. One looked vaguely familiar. The other man's face was hard to make out, as it was hidden beneath the shadow of a great black hood.

"Thankyou Bella", said the hooded man. "So…Hermione Granger I presume? Sit down, we have much to discuss". He gestured with a white, spider-like hand at the chair opposite him. Hermione however, remained standing.

"I am not sitting anywhere before you tell me who you are and why the hell I've been brought here against my will!" Fury was pulsing through her like never before. How dare they abduct her like this? She wanted an explanation now. The hooded man gave a hollow laugh.

"My apologies…I seem to have forgotten my manners…" The spider-like hand grasped the hood and lowered it slowly. The face it revealed was pale and gaunt, almost skeletal in appearance. His eyes were red slits, and reminded Hermione of snakes' eyes. "I am Lord Voldemort" he resumed, "- and you are here for your..", he paused, sneering "initiation." Hermione's anger was replaced at once with cold terror…Voldemort. Was it really him? She daren't believe it…yet Harry had described him to her before. There was no doubting those eyes… Gathering herself quickly, she spoke in a voice of forced calm.

"Initiation? Into what?"

"The Death Eaters of course. Now sit down", Voldemort spat impatiently. A pair of hands shoved Hermione into the nearest chair. Bellatrix Lestrange - Sirius' murderer - towered over her with a hand gripped tightly on her shoulder. By the look on her face, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Hermione felt repulsed. In spite of her feelings of fear and apprehension, she felt the urge jump up and punch this woman hard in her hollow face. Repeatedly. With enormous effort she tore her eyes away from Bellatrix's, and returned Voldemort's gaze.

"What makes you think for one minute that I'd join you?" she spoke breathlessly, fighting to repress her nervous shivering.

"You have no choice. Refuse any of my orders and I will have your Muggle parents killed. Do as I say, and I shall spare them." Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Why should I believe you?" she glared.

"Idiot girl!" shrieked Bellatrix suddenly. "Didn't you hear the Dark Lord? You have no choice!"

"Enough Bella!" Voldemort spoke in a warning tone. Bellatrix fell silent. Wormtail and the other man exchanged tense looks. Voldemort began again. "Listen carefully to what I have to say Granger, for interrupting me may well be the last thing you do. It is lucky for you my mood has been...rather jubilant of late. Several weeks earlier I would have killed you without a second thought." He smirked sickenenly. "I am closer than I have ever been to acheiving my goals, thanks in no small part to one of my longer-serving followers...and you will help me move even closer to accomplishing these goals. Now, never before have I accepted a … _Muggleborn_ into my inner circle. So-called 'witches' and 'wizards' like you, are to me just as repulsive as Muggles themselves. However, I have a particular use for you. It matters not that you are unwilling. As long as you are my servant and obey my orders, no harm will come to you or your family. Although I cannot say the same for your friends...it is up to you to decide. Would you save your family and your own life? Or remain loyal to Potter and co.?" Hermione felt sick. There was no way she would do anything Voldemort told her to. No way. Right now however, her priority was to get out of this room alive. She decided she had no choice but to play along. She would ask what he wanted her to do, agree, then leave as soon as possible and figure out the rest later. Under the present circumstances, she had no better plan. Slowly, she lifted her head and faced the man across the table.

"What would you have me do?" she asked timidly, certain she did not want to hear the answer. She fought desperately to hide the croaking of her voice and the tears that were threatening to fill her eyes. A thin smile curled Voldemort's mouth.

"It is not difficult. Simply relay to me information on the Order's doings, and anything else that may be of use to me. But be warned…I will know instantly if you reveal this to anyone, and I will know if you withhold valuable information from me. Do you know what Legilimency is?" he asked suddenly. Hermione nodded. Voldemort smirked again. "No wizard is more skilled in Legilimency than I. The moment I detect that you have defied me, I will order the murders of your parents. Is that clear?" Hermione tried to comprehend what had just been demanded of her. It seemed so unreal…he wanted her to become a spy…for the Death Eaters. Not only that, he was a Legilimens. It didn't matter how good an actress she could be, there was no fooling Voldemort. 'Just stick to the plan…get out of here alive…' she reminded herself. She suddenly realised she was holding her breath. She breathed out slowly, then replied.

"Yes. It's…it is clear. But…I have never been allowed to sit in a meeting of the Order. Nor does anyone ever tell"-

"If you're as sharp as I've heard you are Granger, you will find a way. Besides…I have a specific first task for you which concerns the Potter boy. What do you know, Granger, of the reasons why I sought to murder Potter as a baby?" The reality of this question hit Hermione as hard as if she'd been suddenly Petrified. This 'man' had tried to murder Harry, and still wanted him dead…her best friend. She felt her fury begin to resurface.

"I don't know anything", she retorted as firmly as she could manage. " I don't think even Harry knows why"-

"Oh, Potter knows by now…that fool Dumbledore would have seen to that." Voldemort fixed her with a penetrating stare. "Hmmmm…I can see you are not lying. Good." Hermione shuddered. Voldemort turned to the man sitting beside him. "Dolohov, bring me my Pensieve." The man rose and strode out of the room.

'Dolohov…of course', Hermione remembered with a jolt. 'He cursed me at the Department of Mysteries, and murdered…'

"You remember not so long ago" Voldemort interrupted her thoughts, "you helped prevent me obtaining that prophecy I wanted, in the Department of Mysteries? Well, now you can help me reclaim it."

"No, I can't, it was destroyed, and no one heard"-

"Let me tell you what I know of that prophecy", Voldemort continued. "It was made a little over seventeen years ago by one Sybill Trelawney, to Albus Dumbledore." He spat the name as though it tasted foul to speak. Dolohov re-entered the room carrying a large silver basin, the rim of which was decorated with rune symbols. "Here, Dolohov." He placed it carefully on the table in front of Voldemort, who glanced into the bowl, and then looked back at Hermione. "Granger - pay attention. I am going to show you what one of my followers told me of the prophecy." He prodded the silvery substance within the bowl with his wand. An image of a masked figure in long black robes rose out it, and a deep silky voice spoke.

_ "My Lord, I'm afraid I was discovered and banished from the building. However, I can easily recall what I heard beforehand: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies'"_. The figure faded into nothing. Hermione was breathing fast. She knew the owner of that voice alright. He was the one who's face was now constantly in the _Prophet_, and plastered on Azkaban posters in every area frequented by magical folk. She looked up at Voldemort.

"There is more to that prophecy, as I have found out to my cost…Potter knows…you will find out exactly what he knows."

"Why me?" Hermione whispered in a barely audible voice.

"I have my reasons", he replied dismissively. "And now all that remains is for you to receive your Mark."

"Mark?"

"The Dark Mark", leered Bellatrix Lestrange, proudly pushing up her left sleeve to reveal the ugly symbol of a snake protruding from a skull. The same mark Snape had on his arm… Voldemort rose from his chair. Hermione recoiled.

"Extend your left forearm, Granger", he commanded. Bellatrix moved behind her and placed a hand firmly on each of her shoulders.

'I have no choice', she thought despairingly. Slowly, reluctantly, she rolled up her sleeve. Voldemort grasped her wrist tight with his left hand, and with his right hand traced the Dark Mark onto her arm with his wand tip. The pain was unbearable: her skin burned where the wand had been. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, thinking she might faint…then the pain vanished. Gasping, she looked down, her eyes wide in horror. There, on her own arm, was a black Dark Mark. Bellatrix leaned over her shoulder and hissed in her ear:

"Welcome to our side, Hermione."


	2. Chapter 2

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Who's in there? Come on! Let me in!"

"I'll be five minutes Ron", Hermione croaked back.

"Well hurry up! We're leaving soon - Mum's made breakfast downstairs by the way."

"Okay." Hermione had been sat alone in the Weasley's bathroom for half an hour, listening to the Burrow's occupants rushing around preparing for Bill and Fleur's wedding that morning. She on the other hand, was nowhere near ready. Perched on the edge of the ceramic bath, she studied the new garments in her lap; a heavy black velvet cloak with a long pointed hood, and a hideous skull mask. She wondered somewhat morbidly if it was real, a vile trophy from one of Voldemort's victims. She was presented with these repulsive items rather unceremoniously by Bellatrix Lestrange, and ordered to wear them when summoned to her Master's side. 'Master'...Bellatrix's word resounded itself in Hermione's head. She was enslaved to the Dark Lord, unbelievable as it seemed. Thankfully everyone was too preoccupied with the wedding to question her absence yesterday evening. No one asked why her errand in the village took so long. She slept little that night. If she wasn't sobbing silently into her pillow she was desparately contemplating her situation. Dare she tell anyone? Could her parents be hidden? Could she take that risk? One thing was certain, she was not about to give information willingly to _him_. 'If only Dumbledore were here' she found her self thinking over and over again. She let out a long sigh. The very last thing she felt like doing today was going to a wedding. She heaved herself to her feet and leaned on the sink, peering at her reflection in the mirror on the wall. Her hair, normally thick and shiny hung limp and dull around her face, framing her sunken, grey complexion. Dark circles lined her eyes. She rubbed her tear-stained face, catching sight of a snake's head imprinted on her arm as she did so. Trembling, she pushed the sleeve of her night gown right up, and examined the Mark. It's blackness had faded a little overnight, though it still stung. She winced as she smoothed it lightly with her fingers. She had to be careful not to let anybody see it. She imagined Harry's and Ron's faces if they ever discovered this disgusting thing on her arm.

"HER-MI-OH-NEE!!!" The bathroom door shook under Ron's pounding fists.

"ALRIGHT!" she yelled back as she hurriedly wrapped the cloak and mask in a towel, and went to unlock the door.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione emerged downstairs. Somehow she'd managed to cram her weary body into her waist-pinching lilac summer gown, which she wore with matching elbow length satin gloves in an effort to conceal the offensive Mark. Her skin glowed healthily thanks to Mrs Weasley's Minute-Magic skin revitalising creme, and her hair now fell in glamorous curls around her shoulders.

"There you are!" Ginny, dressed in stunning emerald green robes sprinted barefoot across the hall to where she stood, gripping a pair of slingback heels in one hand and a bundle of post in the other. "Hogwarts letters, we've all got one" she gasped breathlessly, handing her two envelopes, "-except for you, you've got two. You don't want to go in there!" she shrieked as Hermione made for the living room. "The blokes are in there, us girls are in the kitchen. I'll be in now, I'll just go and deliver these." Hermione tugged nervously at her gloves and entered the kitchen.

The room was a hive of activity. Mrs Weasley was running through the guest list on a roll of parchment so long it touched the ground. Tonks was busy fixing a yellow carnation in her (today) short cropped pink hair. Fleur was perched on a tall stool in the centre of the room, looking very anxious, her long ivory dress flowing into a silky pool on the floor. Fleur's mother (who looked just like an older version of Fleur) wore a pale-blue suit, and was hovering over her daughter adjusting her tiara and fixing her veil. Fleur's ten year old sister alone looked relaxed, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice and singing to herself in French.

"There you are Hermione dear!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley loudly, rushing over in her new cream dress and hat.

"Morning Mrs Weasley. You look wonderful", she smiled weakly.

"Oh thankyou dear! Ginny did my hair and make-up, can you believe? She can do it more often! Now go and have some breakfast quickly! The transport's just arrived, they're waiting outside." Sure enough, Hermione spotted two large shiny Ministry cars through the window, no doubt arranged by Arthur Weasley.

"I don't think I can handle breakfast this morning to tell the truth", she replied eyeing the stacks of toast, crumpets and bacon sandwiches on the table. Her stomach still felt as though it were lined with lead.

"Oh don't worry, I'm too excited to eat myself! There'll be plenty to eat at the reception later anyway, I expect you'll be hungry by then." That moment everyone's attention was caught by the sound of raucous male voices emerging in the hallway.

"Aaarrgh!!" Fleur shrieked making everyone jump, "Zomebody go and ztop zem! Bill, ee cannot zee me like zis! Eet is bad luck!"

"I'll go", Hermione volunteered.

"Me too", said Tonks. "God I hate weddings", she muttered as they were out of earshot. "I look like a bloody fairy in this dress. As soon as we get back here for the party I'm changing...HEY!" She yelled over the rabble. Bill, Mr Weasley,Harry, Ron, Fred, George and Charlie all turned around. "Bill, your future missus is still getting ready in the kitchen, so you'll all have to use the front door."

"Cheers Tonks", Bill grinned. "Tell Mum and Fleur we'll make our way there now." He really had made a remarkable recovery considering the injuries he had sustained a month before. He was badly scarred facially, Bill often joked he looked like a younger version of Mad-Eye Moody. He had the same handsome features though. In fact, Hermione found his scars simply added to his dangerous appeal.

"I'll tell them", agreed Hermione.

"Good, I'm off to meet Remus now", said Tonks with a grin. "See you all there. Good luck Bill!" She Disapparated with a small 'pop'.

"Um...Dad?" Ginny turned from where she had stood looking out of the porch window. "We have a visitor."

"Oh my God."

"No way!"

"Percy?"

"What's that idiot doing here?" muttered Ron darkly.

"Look, Penelope Clearwater's with him", Hermione announced, "and they're both in dress robes."

"Ginny, open the door", Arthur ordered. Percy approached them looking sullen, Penelope looking anxious but keen, holding his hand. Hermione wondered privately whether this had been her idea, not Percys.

"Nice of you to come little brother!" said Bill brightly, welcoming him with a slap on the back. "Long time no see!" Percy forced a small smile, and looked nervously at Mr Weasley.

"Father..." he began. Hermione could tell this was going to be awkward. "I...I've been an idiot."

"Is that right?" mumbled George. Fred smirked.

"I...well, I just wanted to say that I'm...I'm sorry. For everything." He held out his right hand in a handshake gesture. Mr Weasley paused. Then, just as Hermione thought he was going to tell Percy where to stick his apology, he grasped his son's hand and pulled him into an embrace.

"Oh! Percy!" gasped Mrs Weasley, who had come out to see what the fuss was about.

"Come on, lets leave them to it", said Harry to the others, indicating towards the open door. They all followed, leaving Mr and Mrs Weasley alone in the hallway with their estranged son and his girlfriend.

"Well that was a surprise" said Ginny as they all traipsed out into the yard. "Wonder why he's come back now?"

"Family occasions like this often make people rethink rows", said Charlie knowledgably.

"Either that or Scrimgeour's sacked the little git", spat Ron, "which isn't unlikely given _his _record."

"Prat" added Fred.

"Now come on", interrupted Bill. "It must have taken a lot of courage to show up here and apologise in front of us all like that. Lets give him a break and try to end this stupid rift once and for all."

"Yeah whatever, he'll always be a git", remarked Ron as Bill and Charlie wandered over to where Fleur's dad was talking to the Ministry drivers.

"Changing the subject slightly", said Ginny, "has anyone opened their Hogwarts letters?"

"Er, no", Harry answered for tham all as everyone bar the twins rummaged in their pockets. Hermione tore the Hogwarts seal off her letter and began to read.

_"Dear Miss Granger,_

_As you are no doubt aware, the future of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was uncertain following the sudden, unexpected death of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore at the end of last term. However, I am pleased to announce that after much deliberation and discussion, the staff and school governors have unanimously decided that Hogwarts will indeed reopen on the first of September this year. Classes will resume as normal and most faculty members will return to teach. Two new members have been recruited to our staff to fill the Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts positions. I understand that under the present circumstances, some students and their families may question the safety of the school. However, over the Summer holidays the school has been subjected to stringent tests by Ministry Officials, and I can confidently say that Hogwarts has never been more secure. Any concerns or queries you or your parent(s) / guardian(s) have may be owled to me. The Hogwarts Express will depart at the usual time of eleven o'clock from Platform Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross Station. Book lists for your new school year are enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Headmistress M. McGonagall"_

"I knew it would reopen", said Harry solemnly, folding up his letter.

"Still, you three aren't going back are you?" asked Ginny. Harry, Ron and Hermione shook their heads in unison.

"No way. There are more important things than school now", said Ron. Ginny sighed.

"I wish you'd let me go with you", she addressed Harry alone this time.

"We've talked about this", he mumbled in reply. Ron looked away pointedly, shuffling his feet in the gravel.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to Hogwarts Ron?" asked Fred.

"'Cos there's every chance you'll follow in Percy's footsteps and be made Head Boy y'know", sniggered George.

"Oh shut up", scowled Ron.

"Looks like Hermione's already got the Head Girl position anyway", said Fred nodding at the second letter she was clutching. Hermione studied the plain envelope in her hands. She had no idea who it was from, there was no Hogwarts seal on it, just a blob of hardened red wax. She picked it off and opened it. Inside was a scrap of parchment, on which an abrupt note was scribbled in spiky black handwriting:

_"I know of your present situation. I may be able to help. Go to the village square at eleven o'clock tonight alone. Look for the red book."_

She felt the colour drain from her face. Who knew? Who sent this?

"Hermione?"

"Sorry to disappoint you Fred", she answered regaining her composure. "It's just my renewed _Prophet_ subscription." She tucked the note carefully down her glove sleeve.

"Come on boys!" shouted Bill suddenly. "I'm getting married in fifteen minutes!"

"Dunno why we can't just Apparate there", grumbled Ron as he tugged at his tight crevatte.

"It's a _wedding _Ron, we have to arrive in style", said Ginny. "Plus Dad thought the cars would be a novelty."

"They're novel alright, you could fit the entire congregation in here!" Harry exclaimed as he jumped in.

"That's it boys, in you get, lets go!" Mr Weasley had dashed over to the car, red-faced and top-hat lop-sided. "Thank God we don't do this every day - Percy are you travelling with us?"

"Course he is Dad", said George grabbing his elbow before he could speak.

"Come on Perce", said Fred, grabbing his other arm and yanking him with George into the car.

"Excellent", said Mr Weasley beaming. "Ok, we're off! Girls, you go and get into your car, Molly, Penelope, Fleur and her family are coming now...see you there!" He jumped in the car just as a window rolled down and Ron stuck his head out.

"Look what we've got!" he exclaimed, brandishing a glass of champagne. "Muggles do know how to travel after all!" Ron's strangled yelp as Arthur pulled him back in was drowned by the sound of the engine starting. As the car disappeared down the Weasley's drive, Ginny turned to Hermione, complaining about Harry not letting her go with them on their journey. Though Hermione nodded and 'mmmmed' at the right moments, she barely registered a word she said as she felt the mysterious note tucked in her glove, and wondered who it was from.

"SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!"

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!" Bill yelled over the guest's loud chants initiated by Fred and George. "Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, humans and part-humans", he began rising to his feet, "-thankyou for coming! Before I begin I would like you all to join me in a round of applause for my parents for hosting this fabulous reception!" Hermione clapped distractedly along with the other two-hundred or so guests. The Weasley's garden was unrecognisable. A long table stretched across a platform at one end where the bride, groom, and their close family members sat. On the ground, dozens of circular tables for the guests had been moved to make room for dancing. A white marquee was magically suspended above them all, illuminated by real fairy lights. As daylight faded, hundreds of brightly coloured lanterns were lit and hung in the trees lining the garden. As Bill continued his speech, Hermione glanced at her watch. It was a little after ten pm already, and she had to slip away soon. She should, she thought, manage this easily unnoticed amongst the celebrations. However, she knew that two wizards were actively looking to catch her on her own. It was mid-way through the wedding vows when she spotted him - Viktor Krum in traditional Bulgarian robes sat on the bride's side of the hall. He looked as serious and straight-faced as ever, though he winked at her when he caught her eye, a knowing smile curving his mouth. They had already shared a lingering kiss of greeting that afternoon before he was ambushed by Quidditch fanatics. Since then she had caught him staring at her several times, both during dinner and throughout the evening. It was true that events of the last twenty-four hours had given her enough to dwell on already, though it didn't stop her mind occasionally fantasising about what might happen if she didn't have to leave the party so early...there was no doubt she still found him attractive. She caught sight of Ron standing a few yards away - he wasn't listening to Bill's speech either. His face was set, evidently he was thinking hard. She remembered the conversation she had overheard a few hours earlier. She was in Ginny's bedroom changing into her black evening dress when she heard Ron and Harry discussing her on the landing.

_"...seen the way she's been looking at Vicky all day?"_

_"Hermione's just friends with him Ron. Even so, she's not going out with anyone, she's free to look if she wants."_

_"Yeah well, she doesn't have to rub it in my face, kissing him like that in front of everyone."_

_"He kissed her! He was saying hello, it looked perfectly innocent to me. Anyway, Hermione's not a mind-reader y'know."_

_"What are you on about?" She heard Harry give an exasperated sigh._

_"You haven't once told her how you feel. And don't look like that 'cos I know you fancied her months before you told me. The tension between the pair of you is driving me mad, and if you don't sort it out I'm leaving for Godric's Hollow tomorrow by myself, and you two can go back to Hogwarts."_

_"Come off it - "_

_"No Ron - tell her tonight, get it in the open, you've hung about long enough. Krum's not hanging around, but that's no good thing 'cos I'm sure he'd like to get Hermione on her own before the night's out and he has to leave...if you get my drift."_

Since then she had been expecting Ron to approach her alone. Nothing had happened yet, though they had laughed and joked together with Harry, Ginny and the twins. She wished she hadn't heard them talking, she had plenty to think about already. At least, she told herself, she could think out a response in advance. Four hours later however, she found she _still_ didn't know how she should react. How did she feel about Ron Weasley?

"So here's to many happy years of marriage with my beautiful new wife, Mrs Fleur Weasley!" Bill bent to kiss Fleur and raised his glass to the sound of _'Cheers!' _from the guests. Hermione pulled her black evening shrug closer around her shoulders as she shivered. She was hard pressed to tell whether this was from the slight chill of the night air, or nerves... either way she had to leave soon. She winced in pain as she felt a sudden pressure on her left forearm - Ron had just grasped her. Though he was gentle, his touch was still sore on her Mark.

"Hermione", he whispered in her ear, "can I have a word?" She nodded, and followed as he led her through the crowd. "I've been trying to get you on your own all night", he said as they stopped at an empty table.

"Oh?" she responded in as surprised a voice as she could. "Well it _has _been a busy day... why, is something the matter?"

"No! Not at all, it's just... I... well...there's something I've been meaning to tell you..." he stammered finally.

"Yes?"

"I... I really... really like - "

"Herm-own-inny!" Ron was interrupted mid-sentence as Viktor Krum strode over, handing Hermione one of the two glasses of champage he was carrying. "I hav been searching for you", he smiled.

"We're in the middle of a conversation here" said Ron through gritted teeth. If Krum detected the bitterness in his voice he didn't show it.

"I am sorry", he replied in his thick Bulgarian accent, "but I go home in the morning and I vos hoping to talk with Herm-own-inny alone." Rons face reddened.

"Fine", he spat, turning and storming off in the direction of the house. Krum faced Hermione and took her hand, pulling it towards his lips.

"It is good to see you again", he said softly as he kissed her. "You look more beautiful than I remember." She was sure her face was reddening as much as Ron's.

"Thankyou", she said looking up at him with a smile. "It's been ages since I last saw you... how have you been?"

"Very good, things are very well with me... but vot about you? I hear things hav been very difficult here... especially since your Headmaster..." he bowed his head. "I liked Professor Dumbledore a lot... I hope they bring his killer to justice soon."

"Yes, we all do", Hermione tried not to sound agitated. She _really_ had to leave soon...

"I hoped to come to his funeral, to pay my respects, and to see you of course." He stroked her cheek with his fingers. "But I couldn't make it... I vos so disappointed."

"I did look out for you", she admitted, leaning unwittingly into his touch. He leaned closer to her.

"Vell, hopefully I vill be able to see you more often very soon... I hav joined a new Quidditch team here in Britain!

"Wow! That's great news, where - ?"

"Hey Krum!" Fred bounded over followed by George and Charlie. "Just heard the news - Caerphilly Catapults, eh?"

"Ah, Krum, why couldn't you join the Chudley Cannons?" asked Charlie shaking his head.

"Who cares?" piped up George. "As long as he signs for England next he can play for who he likes!" Krum threw an apologetic look at Hermione before allowing himself to be swept away by the trio. It was now or never. Hermione scanned the party from where she stood. Lupin was slow dancing with Tonks on the dancefloor, as was Fleur with her father. Bill was laughing with a very tipsy-looking Percy; Hagrid and Olympe Maxime were stood chatting in the corner, their heads just inches from the marquee roof; and Harry and Ginny were deep in conversation at a table by themselves. Hermione heaved a determined sigh, summoned her travel cloak, and set off down the Weasley's drive at a quick pace. She had fifteen minutes to get to the village square.

The Weasley's village, Ottery St. Catchpole, was a tiny rural, mostly muggle village of no more than thirty houses, the Burrow being the outermost house. As Hermione strode down the country lane towards the dim glow of the street lamps from the village square, a hundred questions swam in her head. Who sent the note? Were they a follower of _him_? Would they be here now? Or would she find just this book? What _was_ this red book? How would it help her? Another extremely worrying thought surfaced in her mind. What if this was a trap? Was she about to meet a group of Death Eaters? At this thought she almost turned around to rejoin the party she had left behind. Her curoisity however by this point was too high to ignore. She entered the square cautiously, treading softly to lessen the noise her heels made on the cobbled road. There wasn't a soul around. The few cottages that lined the square were void of light - either their owners were in bed already or they were on holiday. An old Post Office across the road was boarded up, as was the Newsagents next to it. She approached the cenotaph that loomed above her. There at it's base, was a small red book no bigger than the palm of her hand. She glanced at the clock suspended above the Post Office; it was two minutes to eleven. She wondered momentarily why the note asked that she come at this particular time... she hardly imagined the square would be any busier during the day. She reached down and picked up the book gingerly. It was bound in red leather, a gold cross embossed on the front cover. Bewildered, Hermione flicked through the pages. This was no wizard's book... it was a muggle book of hymns. _Hymns_ for goodness sake.

"What the hell?" She found herself speaking out loud. The Post Office clock chimed eleven. In that split second, before she had chance to examine the book further, she felt a strange, familiar jerk from behind her navel, and the village square disappeared from sight.


	3. Chapter 3

Her knees hit the cold, paved ground with a thud. It was so dark someone might have scattered Fred and George's Peruvian Instant Darkness powder... yet she was certain she had just travelled by Portkey. Heart pounding, her knees bruised, she picked herself up off the ground and dusted her robes. A sweet smell of damp grass met her nose, and an odd, deathly silence hung in the air. Apart from the moon, the only visible light was from a row of bright orange specks on a dark hillside in the distance, meaning the nearest main road was several miles away. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see that she was standing on a weed-strewn stone path, winding through what looked like a very overgrown cemetery. Over the long grass she could make out the tops of several tombstones lying at odd angles, almost as though they had been kicked. To her right, Hermione saw a statue of an angel knelt in prayer, whose weathered stone face barely peered out of the ivy that was creeping around it. Glancing further down the path, she noticed a building looming some yards away... a church. It looked gothic in design, and was obviously abandoned - it's roof was damaged,several stained-glass windows were smashed in, and a thick padlocked chain hung around the giant heavy oak doors. Hermione shivered and pulled her robes tighter around her body. Despite it being a late August night, her breath rose as mist in front of her. Her mind was racing. Where was she? Why was she here? Who planted that Portkey? And what -

Hermione paused suddenly, and listened carefully. She was certain she'd just heard the soft swish of a cloak... she wasn't alone. She turned to face the source of the noise - the old church. Someone was there. A tall cloaked, hooded figure had emerged by the church doors, and was beckoning her towards him. Hermione felt the crumpled note in her pocket. Images of Voldemort's snake-like face and Bellatrix Lestrange smirking flashed in her mind. A sense of reckless daring surged within her. Gripping her wand tightly, she strode down the path towards the stranger, brambles snagging her robes as she went. She was a few paces away when the figure turned and swept down a narrow broken side-path. Evidently she was to follow. She traced the stranger's steps in silence as he led her around the edge of the building to a small wooden door at the churches rear. Without a word or glance, the figure pushed the door and entered. Hermione took a deep breath and did the same. It was darker inside the church than outside, but by the dim moonlight that filtered through the open door, she could see a rotting wooden staircase to her right, and a landing above her head. The stranger, Hermione noticed, pulled his hood closer around his face and climbed the stairs; his pace quickening with every step. As he reached the top step, he flung his right arm backwards. A thin jet of gold light shot past her ear, and the wooden door snapped shut behind her. Hermione felt her breathing grow more rapid. 'I'm not trapped', she thought desparately, 'I can always disapparate'. She found herself longing for the warm party atmosphere of the Burrow. She climbed the creaking stairway, and saw the hooded man ahead enter a room, from which there came a dim red glow. Hermione edged tentatively into the room, where the stranger stood with his back to her muttering, lighting candles on a wrought-iron stand with his wand. The room he had led her into was a low-ceilinged circular room with crimson-painted walls. Looking around, she got the impression that this room was where the stranger actually _lived._ To the left stood a wide fireplace in which embers were still smouldering. Either side were two worn and frayed cushioned sofas. A low table standing between them was strewn with rolls of parchment, ink, and quills. On a taller, narrow side-table, five or six empty green wine bottles glistened in the candlelight. A neatly made bed lay at the far end of the room, next to which was stood a small tower of thick leather-bound books. Hermione could stand her curiosity no longer. "Who are you?" she asked as forcefully as she could muster to the stranger's back. The hooded man lit the last candle, placed his wand on the table next to him, and turned around slowly, removing his hood as he did so. Hermione gasped as her eyes met his... for there, gaunter and paler than ever, stood Severus Snape.

'No', mouthed Hermione soundlessly, shaking her head. She flung back round to the open doorway which slammed shut and locked as she leapt towards it. "LET ME OUT OF HERE YOU... YOU MURDERER!" she screamed, pounding furiously at the door. She whipped her wand out of her pocket only for it to disappear - Snape had moved behind her and had snatched it from her hand. "HOW COULD YOU KILL HIM?" she shrieked as he grabbed her wrist and went to cover her mouth. Wandless and desparate, she lashed out with her free left hand, hitting him hard on his jaw. Snape cursed and put his hands to his mouth, letting her go. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON OUR SIDE", she screamed at him, "I EVEN DEFENDED YOU, YOU FUCKING EVIL BASTARD!" Snape glared dangerously at her.

"SHUT UP, YOU STUPID GIRL!" he bellowed, his face contorted with rage. Before Hermione could respond, Snape grasped both her wrists and shoved her backwards, pinning her firmly against the wall. His tall dark frame towered over her as blood trickled from his lip and dripped onto her cloak. "I suggest _Miss Granger,_ you hear me out before making such wild accusations or dishing out any more _attacks_", he hissed in her ear, his hooked nose barely an inch from her own. "Now whatever you, or Potter, or those _fucking retards_ at the Ministry think of me, I remain loyal to Dumbledore... now what I want _you_ to do is sit over there", he began in a softer tone, jerking his head towards the sofas, "and listen to what I have to say. I know that you yourself are in a very... _vulnerable_ position. Will you do that?" he asked calmly. "I have no intention of hurting you Miss Granger", he added silkily. "You may even have your wand back." Hermione, shaken and confused, nodded. Snape released his grip, and stepping back, gestured towards the sofas by the fireplace. Rubbing her wrists where his hands had been, Hermione obeyed and sat down. Snape followed, wiping his bloody lip as he went. He handed her back her wand, and positioned himself opposite her, his own wand still lying on the table. She took the opportunity to study his appearance properly... he was vastly different from the man she knew mere months ago. He looked as if he hadn't eaten anything in weeks; his torn, creased black robes hung loosely from his body. His hair was as greasy as ever, and he evidently hadn't shaved for days. She felt no sympathy for him though. In fact, she was half-tempted to give him a taste of his own Sectumsempra curse then flee, but she needed to hear what he had to say. He was, after all, the second most wanted man in the wizarding world.

"Go on then", she spat, "how do you justify what you did?"

"I did what I did, Miss Granger, on Dumbledore's orders."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You're a liar. Dumbledore would never - "

"Then allow me to explain", snapped Snape impatiently, "and no interruptions if you please, Miss Granger." Hermione scowled and sat further back in the sofa, still keeping a firm grip on her wand. Snape surveyed her for a moment through his curtains of greasy black hair. "You know of course that the Dark Lord wanted... wanted Dumbledore dead... and that he wanted Draco Malfoy to do it. Well... Draco's mother, accompanied by Mrs Lestrange (whom I know you have met recently), paid me a visit... a year ago this night in fact... to request that I protect Draco. You see, the Dark Lord fully expected him to fail in his task and planned to kill him when he did. The Dark Lord's vengeance for Malfoy Senior's misdemeanours, I am told. Of course I vowed to do it. However, my word was not enough for Mrs Malfoy. She requested that I make the Unbreakable Vow. I agreed, for if I hadn't, my true allegiance surely would have been realised. I vowed to protect Draco and guide him through his task. Although I hadn't counted on Draco's mother's final request - that if he fail, I complete the task for him."

"And you agreed to this?" asked Hermione in a hollow voice.

"I had no choice!" he stormed."The Vow's charm had already been cast. The moment I made that Vow, I thought I had sealed my own death, for I had no intention of... committing such a deed..." He paused here a few moments, staring hard at the floor, brow furrowed, seemingly lost in thought. The tiniest ounce of pity begn to mingle with her feelings of hatred towards him. If what he was telling her was true... "I informed Dumbledore of the Dark Lord's latest plan, and of the Vow I had made with Draco's mother."

"Why did you tell him of the Vow if you didn't intend to keep it?" Snape stared at her, although strangely he did not appear angered by her latest outburst. He smoothed some stray strands of hair out of his face, and rubbed his forehead. This conversation was clearly difficult for him.

"Because I promised Dumbledore long ago that I would tell him everything, and keep no secrets... a non-magical vow that I have honoured for seventeen years. Besides... he would have known if I was concealing anything. It was better in the open. That way we could both prepare for... the breaking of the Vow. But he would have none of it." Snape's voice wavered slightly. Despite his impassive expression, his tone became increasingly bitter. "He said it was more important that Draco succeed so he was safe from the Dark Lord's wrath... and my role as spy for the Order was too important to lose. I argued of course. I insisted it would be far more disastrous for the Order to lose their leader, and that Draco and his mother could be hidden. But he wouldn't listen." Hermione fixed him with a penetrating stare. He was telling the truth, she decided. She didn't know exactly why she trusted him right now... but it made sense somehow. Dumbledore's death had obviously had a great effect on him. Surely if he had truely murdered the most powerful wizard in the world he would show signs of triumph, pride, malice. Instead she saw bitterness and uncertainty reflected in those dark eyes. He was a mere shadow of the man her Potions Master had been. Snape met her gaze, and locked eyes unflinchingly with hers. "Miss Granger", he asked, "do you believe me?"

"I do", whispered Hermione simply and sincerely. She reached forward and dropped her wand on the table next to Snape's in confirmation. She could tell he appreciated this gesture, and noticed him relax a little into his seat. "Do you regret it?" The question escaped her lips before she could stop it.

"I have always trusted Professor Dumbledore's judgment... however I think... I fear... his final one was wrong. I am still here gathering information, but I am unable to deliver it. I am no longer of use to the Order. And Draco, though alive, remains enslaved to the Dark Lord, still forced to perform tasks under threat of his parent's murder. A situation I am told, you too find yourself in." A lump caught in Hermione's throat. She had been yearning to talk about this with someone ever since her 'initiation'. "May I see it?" Snape asked bluntly. "The Mark. Show me." She nodded and unfastened her travelling cloak. Snape raised an eyebrow. "You really needn't have made such an effort, Miss Granger", he sneered. She threw him a filthy look as she stood up and moved to sit on the low table, their knees now touching. Holding out her left arm, she pushed the sleeve of her shrug cardigan to her elbow, revealing the ugly black symbol. He took her arm gently with his left hand; his touch, she noted, was surprisingly warm. He traced the outline of the Mark with his right finger and thumb, as though checking it wouldn't rub off. She breathed in sharply as he did so - it still hurt. "The soreness should disappear within a week or so", he remarked. "Has it burned since your first meeting with the Dark Lord?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. He will allow you some time yet."

"How do you know?"

"I am the Dark Lord's most trusted servant", he spoke with disgust, "he shares many of his plans with me."

"Did you know of his plan to abduct me?"

"Yes"

"So why didn't you do something?" she retorted angrily.

"And what exactly could I have done?" he bit back, letting go of her arm.

"You could have warned me somehow."

"Up until quarter of an hour ago you, along with the rest of the wizarding world, believed me to be a murderer. Can you honestly say you would have taken any message from me seriously?" He sprung up from his seat suddenly and began to pace the floor in front of the fireplace, running his fingers through his hair, looking thoroughly agitated. "Do you have ANY IDEA how FRUSTRATING a position I am in? I am forced to kill the one wizard who trusted me, I'm now a wanted murderer, more notorious even than Black ever was, I've had to abandon my home, my posessions, my job, my place in the Order, my whole life! Then to top it all I've become a figure of admiration and respect for other Death Eaters, the very people from whom I've been trying to distance myself ever since I was idiotic enough to join in the first place!!" He flung over the high table next to him in temper, sending half a dozen wine bottles crashing to the floor. Shocking though Hermione found this display, it cemented for her the fact that Snape was, undeniably, innocent. She stood, and approached his sorry form leaning on the mantle. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Prof - " she bit her tongue. "Severus..." her use of his first name, coupled with her touch snared his attention. "I'm sorry", she continued, "I had no idea... but honestly speaking, if you weren't in this position right now, I'd have no one to help me. I need _you _right now more than I need anyone." She plunged a hand into her pocket and withdrew the crumpled letter. "Will you help me? Please?" She could hear her voice beginning to tremble. He turned to face her, her eyes shining with tears, his face expressionless. Then, he placed an arm around her shoulder and guided her back to her seat on the sofa. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle, uncorking it before pouring two glasses of red wine.

"Since you are no longer my student I won't feel guilty about giving you this", he remarked, handing her one of the glasses. He settled down beside her, and took a long gulp from his glass. "You must take over my role", Snape said simply. "I will teach you all you need to know, including; and especially - "

"Occlumency", finished Hermione, sipping a mouthful of the wine.

"Exactly", said Snape, setting down his glass. "And you'd better prove more adept at it than Potter... for both our sakes."

"I'll do whatever you instruct", she replied a little nervously. This was going to prove a heavy responsibility, and her greatest challenge yet.

"Speaking of Potter", began Snape, his voice deepening, "it is imperative that he practice and improve on what I taught him during _our_ Occlumency sessions... and he'd better master non-verbal spells soon as well. Without those skills he would stand no chance if ever he were to duel an experienced wizard. I was able to disarm him repeatedly and with ease _that _night... the Dark Lord, however, would be far less merciful..."

"You're right. I'll make him learn." She shifted in her seat to face him. "Prof - , I mean...", she sighed as Snape raised an eyebrow. "Has... has _he_ told you when he will summon me?" Snape picked up his glass and downed its contents.

"You have three weeks."

"Three - three weeks?"

"Maybe less. He could summon you tonight if he so wished. But he knows you need time... and the Dark Lord is patient."

"Still, can I really master Occlumency in three short weeks?"

"You must. There is no question. I would begin by coaching you tonight, but you have already been here long enough. You don't want to arouse suspicion. We'll have to arrange regular meetings, which will be difficult as you return to Hogwarts next week." Hermione's fingers played with the fraying threads on the arm of the sofa.

"I'm not going back to Hogwarts", she admitted quietly. Snape looked surprised.

"So the school has been closed?"

"No, it will reopen Monday for those who want to go."

"So why aren't you going back Miss Granger?" he enquired leaning forwards. She deliberately avoided his eyes. Should she tell him? Harry had sworn her and Ron to secrecy. Not a single Order member knew the details of their plan. She breathed out slowly.

"Ron and I have to help Harry with something", she answered elusively.

"Ah... I see. Potter is attempting to finish Dumbledore's quest, I presume?"

"You know?" she returned his gaze unflinchingly.

"Yes I know. Dumbledore told me he was searching for the Dark Lord's remaining Horcruxes. I had to treat him for the damage caused by the one he destroyed." A look of intense concern crossed Snape's face, deepening the lines in his prematurely ageing face. "This is an extremely dangerous mision for three young wizards to undertake. I take it you will be travelling alone?"

"Yes. No one else knows what we're doing. Harry said Dumbledore implored him to keep this quiet."

"It took Dumbledore a little under a year to find two Horcruxes, one of which seriously injured him, the other... rendered him weak and defenceless..." There was silence between them as both looked at the floor. Hermione's finger circled the rim of her glass. Snape sighed. "Where is the final Horcrux Dumbledore found? Has Potter got it?" Hermione set her glass down.

"Harry's got it. But... it's a fake", she said in a strangled voice. "Inside was a note from someone who signed only as R.A.B."

"Fake..." he uttered in disbelief. "What did the note say?" Hermione racked her brains.

"It was something like... _'I will be dead long before you read this... it was I who discovered your secret... I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can' _...and then something like; _'I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.' _Snape closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He was evidently thinking hard.

"R.A.B... R.A.B...of course. It could only be..."

"You know who it is?" asked Hermione, sitting upright and ceasing her fidgeting.

"It is a mere guess... but I would say that R.A.B. is none other than Black's younger brother, Regulus. He was a Death Eater... before he got cold feet."

"Sirius told us about him before. Do you really think it's him?"

"I'm almost certain. The author of that note sounded as if he knew the Dark Lord personally."

"That's what I thought", she added, "but what does the 'A' stand for?"

"I do not know. But I can think of no one else who links more closely with the information we have."

"And what of the remaining Horcruxes?" She held up her hand and began crossing off fingers. "The diary is gone, the ring is gone - "

"The locket remains", Snape continued for her, " as does the Cup and Nagini; if Dumbledore's theory is correct of course. Then there is something of Ravenclaws or Gryffindors, and finally the Dark Lord himself." Hermione knew they were both thinking the same thing. This 'quest' seemed near impossible.

"As you are, erm, trusted by V-Vol - You-Know-Who", she stammered as Snape threw her a withering look, "has he told you where any of these Horcruxes are? Or what the sixth one might be?"

"I am afraid not. But it is something I am working on. The Dark Lord isn't forthcoming with the details of his most important plan."

"I thought as much", she sighed. "Going back to what you said about regular meetings, how will we arrange them, and how often?"

"As often as we can", he responded with a hint of urgency. "When do you start this 'quest' of yours?"

"Tomorrow. We're beginning by travelling to Godric's Hollow... it was Harry's idea", she added as Snape gave her a very curious look.

"Very well", he spoke abruptly. "You must get back Miss Granger, your absence must already have been noticed. But before you go, we need to establish a means of communication."

"How?" she asked, thinking hard. Owls were too obvious, Floo powder was out of the question...

"Patroni", he responded simply. Hermione raised an eyebrow in a manner not dissimilar to Snape himself.

"Patroni can be used to carry messages then?"

"Yes. Only Order members know and use this method."

"But wouldn't people notice Patroni shooting about the place?"

"Not if you utter the incantation _occulto_ before you cast it"

"I've cast a Patronus charm a number of times before", she said to a seemingly unimpressed Snape. "How do you send your Patronus to a certain person, and send a message with it?"

"You simply picture the person in your mind, and silently run through the message you wish to send as you cast the Patronus. That person will recieve it almost instantly, and he alone will hear its content."

"So no one can intercept it?"

"No. No one." Snape rose to his feet slowly. "I'm sure you will be able to manage it", he said. "I will contact you as soon as I know it is safe for you to return here."

"Safe?" she repeated curiously.

"You are not my only visitor, Miss Granger." Hermione knew better than to probe this answer further. His tone of voice told her that much. She, too, stood up. Snape picked up her wand and handed it to her, closing her fingers around it. "Be on your guard, Miss Granger... and don't forget what I said about Potter. Now go. You will hear from me soon." She inclined her head in understanding.

"I will. Thankyou." She threw her cloak around her shoulders. "Goodnight." Snape nodded curtly in response. Hermione turned on her heel, and Disapparated in a swish of her cloak.


End file.
